Dean looked impressed by the semi-cursing under a layer of 'what the hell is wrong with you?' that was usually reserved for when Sam or Cas had done something he thought was incredibly stupid. "Um, you just drank enough bourbon to knock Dean out," Sam explained, trying not to look at Camael like she was insane, "and then you specifically said you didn't want to eat." The angel glared in return, the cold emptiness back in her eyes. "I do not drink, Winchester. Not to become intoxicated, at least. Though it appears I am metabolizing some alcohol... Perhaps my vessel regained control for a moment- her liver isn't exactly in pristine condition- she had a problem with drink that was resolved through the church before she made herself available to the angels... and I don't remember leaving the restroom." She blinked a few times and yawned before grimacing at the human action. "If I do ask for a drink, just refuse it. Marie could use an AA sponsor if she's falling back into vice."
"Right." Cam's conclusion was a bit freaky and potentially very bad for their cause; Marie would definitely not be of use if she popped up in a demon fight. At least there probably wouldn't be a repeat of the drinking since they knew to keep the angel away from it at her own request. Although it didn't explain how she'd recognized them and talked about Cas while not being 'herself,' Camael seemed to be composed now while ignoring Dean's pancake-muffled laughter from the opposite side of the table. "I take it you have Castiel's location and we're leaving once we've eaten," she continued when neither brother seemed too preoccupied to stare. "I believe I have enough energy in my grace to get us close as long as it's still in this state. Anything farther and I'll need a breather halfway."
Sam nodded, all business now that the topic of Cas had been brought up. "It's Bellgrad Resort. Key West. No more than 200 miles to get there- but are you sure the three of us can make it?" Camael gave a look that spoke volumes of her annoyance at the question before replying, "What did you putzes think was going to happen after those hours of recharge time? I'm running on all cylinders for the time being..." Her eyes wandered to the bourbon bottle Sam had abandoned on the windowsill, and her nose wrinkled in distaste at the sight. "As long as the intoxication doesn't throw me off we can be in the right city as soon as you pay the bill..."
The waitress appeared again with Camael's tray: two omelettes, toast and coffee all reminding Sam that he hadn't taken a bite of his lukewarm eggs yet. Aside from a few sips of coffee at the hospital and a horrible bite of spinach omelette, this was his first meal since before the crash that had split the group; his turkey wrap from the gas station had turned out to be far past its suggested date and had been pitched without a taste accordingly. Even Dean, who'd eaten a whole slice of pie from the gas station, was hungry enough to continue chowing down, though Sam suspected that his brother's appetite was far greater than the average person's. Staring down the oily, off-yellow pocket of dairy on his plate, he wished he'd kept the spoiled tortilla.
Beside him, Camael was making quick work of her own food, either hungry or trying to be efficient from the way she'd stacked the eggs on her toast and took a drink of coffee after every three bites. Dean was filling out the bill, halfway through his fourth plate of pancakes and a (seventh? eighth?) cup of coffee, and Sam felt like he was holding up the rush. He heaved a quiet sigh and cut into his omelette, trying to ignore the grease that sprouted around his fork in the process. It was a little better than the spinach, with no bitter tang or off flavor, but the cheese was still swimming in oil and it took him a minute to get it down. While he chewed spongy egg his conscience demanded to know just how the brothers intended to find and remove Cas from the hotel when there could be any number of demons and possibly a vengeful angel to contend with.
Sure, they had a demon knife, but even the angel accompanying them probably wouldn't be able to smite her brother at the moment. He just hoped Adriel wasn't too involved yet; Crowley had said that an angel hired Cole, but he hadn't explained whether they were having a rendezvous or a drop off or what would happen to Cas if Adriel got hold of him. That information probably would've been offered for the price of one human soul if Crowley hadn't taken off.
In five minutes, there was nothing left on Sam's plate but a slick layer of excess oil. "Let's go," Dean announced, pushing up from the booth and bouncing on his feet. Every plate on the table was empty, actually, and only Sam had left coffee behind. The trio filed out, headed back to the Impala, and when those in the front were buckled in Camael reached from the backseat to practically slap her hands on their foreheads. There was a long, calm silence as the world went dark, and Sam tried to ignore the clammy fingers against his temple in the near nothingness that somehow seemed more malevolent than when Camael had transported him earlier. Then everything returned vividly through the windshield, 2 am darkness awash over the grungy location accented with palm trees and what looked like graffiti on the side of a distant shop.
"You've arrived at your destination," came a sigh from behind his seat. Sure enough, when he twisted to look out the window he was greeted by a dilapidated sign reading 'Bellgrad Resort' in letters that probably used to be lit up at night. Dean was hurling himself out the driver's door before Sam could work his seatbelt off, and Camael followed seconds behind.
It was too soon. Minutes ago he'd been worrying about what they'd do to get Cas away from this demon and now they were literally on his doorstep. Well, doorsteps, not that it made Sam feel any more confident in his angel-rescuing abilities. There were two buildings directly before them, one old and pretty much falling apart and the other halfway to being completed. Dean breathed deeply and raced to the door of the latter, motioning for his companions to split up.
Of course. They'd find Cas a lot faster this way, but there was also no better way for Cole to overpower the team than to isolate them. "We'll take the old building," Camael announced, pulling Sam along by the sleeve without asking his opinion. They approached the wide green door with its flaking paint and the angel hovered a hand over the scratched locks before pushing it open. It didn't give the satisfying, horror movie creak he'd almost expected, but the puff of air that escaped as the door was unsealed was cold and stale.
The alcohol appeared to have evacuated Camael's system as she deftly checked around the door for sigils, alarms or other traps, holding up two fingers until it was all clear and she stepped inside. "Cas?" Sam called, following Cam as she led the way past two open doors and a boarded room without pausing to check any of them. Sam stopped at each doorway and peered into relative darkness, finding spacious rooms occupied only by empty, falling-apart bookshelves and once pristine desks.
The smell was what grounded Sam in the notion that this was actually an old, long-abandoned building. Dust threatened to make him sneeze in the dry, mildew-tainted air, and breathing in was a gamble; in some breaths there was nothing much in the way of scent and in others the odor of decaying wood and rust was overpowering. Eerily missing were the noises and scents that would verify life- no ammonia of rodent droppings or skittering of bugs and rats in the corners. He got the feeling the place had been eradicated of anything living a long while ago and had maintained its lifelessness since.
The angel leading the way stopped abruptly a meter ahead, and he halted in like to avoid colliding with her as she studied a doorway intently and wiped a symbol from the frame with her sleeve. He could see only inky blackness beyond the few feet of light given off by a hall bulb that was scant evidence of Cole's ownership and upkeep of the otherwise dated, unchanged hotel lobby; as such he dug a flashlight from his backpack as Camael went on ahead.
Sam ignored the chill creeping up his neck at the empty, stifling silence of the place, wishing there was at least a bit of air circulating. He unscrewed the top of the flashlight and reattached it tighter when the switch did nothing, tapping it against his wrist in the way that did little but jostle the batteries inside. At least it sounded like Camael was waiting- it took a long moment to get the flashlight running, and Sam heaved a sigh at the meager beam it gave off, vowing to buy a new set of led lights next time he was on a supply run.
A minute or so had passed without the sound of the angel's footsteps. Sam swept his flashlight over the room to see what had distracted her; the room was vast beneath piles of old boxes and stacks of hotel supplies. This had probably been a storage area or private dining room before the place shut down, but now debris and hardware were strewn everywhere in organized chaos.
There were a lot of blankets and several bedframes piled against one distant wall, and Camael was stooped beside them, sifting through a sizable cardboard box. As Sam inched closer he could hear the thumping of the box's contents being rearranged. It sounded like tightly wrapped bundles or books, and Sam raised an eyebrow at the angel who was searching through them with silent fixation. "Cam, is there something here we need? Can you sense something of Cas'?"
"Oh yes, the moose," Camael muttered. She stood, staring up with black eyes at the Winchester before admitting, "Almost forgot why I split you two up."